


Ten Supernatural Works

by anathemagerminabunt



Category: Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-24
Updated: 2012-10-23
Packaged: 2017-11-16 22:20:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/544468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anathemagerminabunt/pseuds/anathemagerminabunt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten various, unrelated Supernatural works (including one crossover with Sherlock) from a fundraiser I did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There is a dead man, a ghost, standing casual and devil-may-care on the other side of their cheap motel door. He is gaunt, skeletal and stringy, looking devastated and as ruined as a man can, but John Winchester raised no fools.

When the splash of holy water brings up no results and the various charms and amulets also prove useless, Sherlock quirks his lips. “Are you quite done? I require assistance and we haven't much time.”

“Hold your horses,” Dean orders, knife glinting in his hand. “Mind if we slice your arm open and rub rock salt in the wound?”

***

“So,” Sam finishes, as Sherlock reaches the end, “to save everyone, you jumped. But we- _everyone_ thought you were dead.”

“As they should.”

Wordlessly, Dean fills a glass with whiskey and slides it over. Sherlock shoots him a look of disgust.

“So this agent of this Moriarty fellow-- he's in Arizona, and you need our help to kill him?” Dean asks. “Because you think he's a wizard?”

Before Sherlock can say anything more, Sam cuts in, “Wait, if you're alive-- oh, god. Does John know?” The lack of response is response enough. “Oh, _god_.”

The silence that follows is deafening.


	2. Chapter 2

Drunk and half-mad with stress and worry, Dean drags himself out to the back lot of the yard, stopping when the house is out of sight.

“Cas!” he calls out, heedless of the noise. There is no answer. “C'mon, Cas! Please! Cas, I need help!” Dean spins around, eyes sharp for any hint of movement. “I need your help.” Shoulders slumping, he drops the bottle of whiskey from his hand. It shatters on the ground. He doesn't notice. “Cas, answer me. I need _you_.”

When Sam finds him near dawn, neither man mentions the clean, wet streaks adorning Dean's cheeks.


	3. Chapter 3

When Sam sleeps, he is not alone. He dreams of the life he almost had-- of a wedding where Jess wore a gown of white and carried roses, of the house with two kids and a picket fence. He dreams of the life he nearly succumbed to-- of the scent of Ruby's hot sweat, the feeling of her lips against his skin, the tang of her addictive drug.

He dreams of beautiful hair and a welcoming, infectious smile. He dreams of an ever-changing face and the sharp taste of blood in his mouth.

When Sam wakes, he is always alone.


	4. Chapter 4

“Okay,” Dean yells, racing down the path and through the woods, “Okay, this is not cool!”

“Well, what the hell did you expect?” Cleanly jumping over a fallen branch, Sam chances a glance at his brother. “It's killed eight people so far. It's terrorizing a town. This isn't damn Sesame Street, Dean, this is coldblooded, ruthless murder!”

As they skid to a stop before the Impala, Sam tossing the keys over the roof and into Dean's waiting grasp, he points out, “I didn't expect blood, feathers, rotting guts, and razor-sharp teeth when you said we were hunting a 'big bird'!”


	5. Chapter 5

“You're shitting me.”

“Dean!” Sam cries, aghast.

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Sam. You're dying, there is a literal knife stuck through your chest. My foul language is hardly the most important thing at the moment.”

“Actually,” Death drawls, “that's exactly what I'm saying.” He reaches into the folds of his coat, pulling out a small card the size of a pack of gum. Passing it over, he taps the punched-out holes and continues, “You'll notice that this is Sam's sixth death.”

Dean peers at it, brow furrowed. “'Die five times and get the sixth death free',” he reads. “Sweet.”


	6. Chapter 6

It isn't until halfway through Dean's twelfth slice of pie that Sam actually thinks to look at the menu.

“This is what you got?” he asks, pointing at the listed item. Dean hardly lifts his head away from the plate long enough to grunt. Sam mutters, “Seriously, dude, that's disgusting to watch. You look like a literal farm animal at the feeding trough.”

“I can't help it!” Dean protests through bites. “I'm fucking starved. It's like the more I eat--”

Clarity washes over Sam. “Dean, stop eating. Right now.”

“What? No. Why?”

“That's Subtraction Pie, you dolt. It's enchanted.”


	7. Chapter 7

“Oh, great,” Dean mutters. “Now we have some psychotic spirit of a samurai after us, as well as freaking _kappa?_ ”

“I fear our ritual did not go as planned.”

“You think?”

“Perhaps if you were to draw upon your extensive research of Asian culture--” Cas innocently offers.

“My what?”

“The films that you watch,” Cas tells him, gesturing over his shoulder toward the laptop. “The ones that Sam have deem 'personal research'.

“I don't--” Dean cuts off suddenly, narrowing his eyes. “For the last time, no matter what Sam tells you, 'Busty Asian Beauties' is _not_ cultural research!”


	8. Chapter 8

“It didn't work,” Sam says flatly after ten minutes of standing around the sacred circle while nothing happens.

“Perhaps the magnetism of the objects--” Castiel mutters, staring around the forest.

“Fucking magnets, how do they work,” Dean quips, smirking.

Sam snorts, rolling his eyes. With a sigh, he mutters, “Yeah, you're absolutely hilarious, dude.”

Cas furrows his brow, saying, “A negative polarity of metal attracts a positive polarity. Leading to magnetism. I'm not sure what you don't understand, Dean.”

“No, that was...” Dean sighs. “Never mind, man. Remind me to give you a crash course in the internet later.”


	9. Chapter 9

In all of his none-of-your-damn-business-boy years on this godforsaken earth, Bobby has lost a great many people. He's lost the only family he's ever had, he's lost the friends he didn't know he had, and he's lost the only woman he has ever loved. Bobby Singer is used to loss, in all forms.

He didn't expect this. He didn't expect to watch the last two idjits he cares about mourn him. He didn't expect to feel as though he is losing himself.

He didn't expect to mourn the fact that now he's just some Bobby that they used to know.


	10. Chapter 10

“I-I'm not sure what this--” Castiel mutters, writhing against the wall. “I feel strange.”

“That,” Dean mutters, “would be arousal. It's a good thing.” He leans in, nipping at Castiel's neck with just an edge of pain behind the action. Pressing closer, right against the angel, he strokes a hand over his back. “A very good thing, if I'm doing this right.”

Cas bucks forward, inhaling sharply. “This is-- is this normal?”

“Very,” Dean assures, snaking a hand down between them. “You'll tell me if you want to stop?”

“Yes, I-- oh, _don't stop_.” Castiel groans, loud and low.


End file.
